


Just A Pick Me Up

by notarelationship (justpracticing)



Category: Glee
Genre: Blaine Anderson is Nightbird, Cheerio!Kurt, M/M, Nerd!Blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justpracticing/pseuds/notarelationship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Hummel, Cheerio, gets a little pick me up from the local superhero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Pick Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> Dipping my fingers into a few tropes to see what feels right. No beta, but I did try to clean up a few errors I found after I posted it on tumblr. Somehow managed to resist rewriting the entire thing. 
> 
> Prompted by Todaydreambelievers on tumblr.
> 
> Prompt 2: (AU Blaine and/or Kurt using cheesy pickup lines on the other.)  
> Cheerio!Kurt, Kinda nerdy Blaine, Nightbird. (Mentions of bullying, swearing, unapologetic fluff.)

Kurt took a deep breath, steeling himself for another performance. Because that’s what being a Cheerio was for him. A performance. Protection.

Not that he had much to complain about anymore. Being a Cheerio had its perks and being on the squad had, if nothing else, cemented his superiority complex. Geeks and cool kids alike avoided him in the hallway (and not having to talk to them was a plus), he could cut the line in the cafeteria (not that he was actually allowed to eat anymore), and no one bullied him in the hallway (well, almost no one).

Sure, he’d had to quit glee club (even though he’d loved glee club), and he spend all of his time with the bitchiest and occasionally most vapid girls in the school, but it was worth it (he told himself). No more slushies, no more being shoved into lockers and having to explain (or hide) the accompanying bruises. No, becoming a Cheerio had been the right decision.

He just had to get through senior year. One day at a time. And then he’d be out and he’d never see any of them again and he could lose the horrible uniform and forget he ever knew any of their names.

Kurt tugged open his locker, carefully pulling out his math book before replacing it with the remains from his morning classes. A folded yellow piece of paper that had not been there before fluttered to the floor in front of him. He didn’t use yellow paper (he used to use a nice blue, but he’d given that up when he became a Cheerio too). He unfolded it, reading single line written there in neat block printing.

_Does your left eye hurt? Because you’ve been looking right all day._

He just stared at the paper. “What the h-?”

“Hey Hummel. Coach wants us on the field by 1:40 She’s already cleared it with our afternoon teachers.” For emphasis, Santana popped her gum so loudly it could be heard in the next county.

Turning his back to her, Kurt shoved the paper into his bag before anyone could see it. Santana getting her hands on a note like this would be the end of him. It didn’t matter that she (claimed to) like him, it wasn’t the sort of thing she could let pass without comment and it wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted anyone else to know about.

“But I have calc last period Santana. I really can’t afford to keep missing class to go over routines I know in my sleep.” 

“Not my rule babyface. What Coach Sue wants –“

“Coach Sue gets. Yes I know.” Kurt sighed and put his math book back into his locker. He’d get it later for homework.

\--

When he opened his locker later that afternoon, two more folded pieces of yellow paper were sitting on top of his textbook. He unfolded the first one carefully.

_I don’t have a library card, do you mind if I check you out?_

What? He unfolded the second one much less carefully, almost tearing it in the process.

_Are you a parking ticket? ‘Cause you’ve got fine written all over you._

“Oh my god.” Kurt placed the two notes back into his locker and fished the one from earlier out of his bag. It was the same non-descript block printing. Same yellow paper. He turned the sheets over, looking for any other markings, but there was nothing to identify it. And even if it had some mark on it, Kurt had spent the last two years ignoring everyone in the school other than the other Cheerios. He barely knew his classmates names at this point.

He was still staring at the notes when his body slammed hard into the wall of lockers, narrowly missing the edge of his open locker door, one but hitting the fat Master lock of the locker next to his square with his shoulder. “ _Fuck_ Ow!” Kurt did know Dave Karofsky. He had bullied Kurt horribly his freshman year, but had largely left him alone once he put on the Cheerio uniform. But every once in a while, “for old times sake” he’d said, when absolutely no one was looking Dave would slam him hard against a locker. 

Dave kept walking, but he turned around and smirked at Kurt before he turned the corner. 

“What was that Hummel?” Santana and Brittney came around the corner just as Dave disappeared from view. Santana turned her head to watch Karofsky. “Did that asshole want something?”

“Shh, Santana, no.” Kurt tipped his chin in the opposite direction as a group of students came down the hall, all dressed in strange costumes. Sam Evans was with them. Kurt knew Sam, he was a goofball but OK, but didn’t recognize any of the others.

Santana’s face twisted sourly as she looked over the group. “What the hell are you losers?”

“Oh hi Sam!” Brittney walked over and threw her arms around Sam’s shoulders. “Is this your Superhero Club?”

Sam nodded and started to answer, but Santana got there first.

“A Superhero Club? Seriously? What do you guys do, sit around and read comic books all afternoon?”

“Sometimes.” Sam shrugged. “Sometimes we patrol the hallways after school to make sure everyone’s safe.”

Where were you ten minutes ago? Kurt snorted and everyone looked at him. “What?”

“Are you going to join up Brittney?” It wasn’t Sam. A boy with dark hair slicked back on his head, dressed in a full superhero outfit complete with dark cape and chest protector of some kind. Kurt thought he looked vaguely familiar. He probably had him in a class. “You don’t have to come every week. Only when you can make it.”

Santana shook her head. “What are you supposed to be?” She scowled at him. “I didn’t know Hobbits wore capes.”

“He’s Nightbird,” Brittney said, perking up. “But I usually call him Blaine when we’re in class together.”

“Oh my god, Britt, no. You are not doing this.” Santana waved her arms between her girlfriend and the group of classmates she obviously had no time for.

Kurt noticed Blaine’s eyes darting to Kurt and away a few times, and he could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He seemed a little nervous to be a superhero.

Kurt would have sworn he also saw a red flush creep up Blaine’s neck under his homemade cape when he looked at Kurt. (Kurt did take a moment to appreciate that they all made their own costumes. They might be dorks but that took some skill that Kurt approved of, even if he had to approve silently.)

Brittney just clapped her hands. “I’m definitely joining,” she said. “You guys always look like you’re having so much fun. Can I get a fun name too?” Santana rolled her eyes, snorting in derision. “Will you help me with my costume Blaine?”

Blaine came over to talk to Brittney. Now that he was closer Kurt could see that he sure used a lot of product in his hair. 

“Sure,” Blaine said. He smiled brightly at Brittney while they talked. “I’ll come over Saturday and we can figure something out. ” They made plans and Blaine turned and followed his other friends down the hallway. 

Kurt was still watching them go when Blaine looked back over his shoulder, Kurt looked away and followed Santana to practice. 

\--

It turned out that Blaine was in two of his classes, and he had noticed him, just without the costume. He was cute in a dorky way, and earned extra points for his commitment to bow ties; he was smart enough that Kurt didn’t feel like he was wasting his time in class when he opened his mouth. Kurt had an inkling that he might be gay, but he didn't have time for random McKinley High School students he never planned to see again after graduating, even gay ones, and Blaine’s existence was information he had filed away and never bothered to use again. But now, he discovered, every time he looked at Blaine, Blaine was looking at him. Had he always done that? Kurt hated to admit to himself that Blaine could have been staring at him every day and he wouldn’t have noticed. Blaine had simply not been on his radar. 

\--

There were notes in his locker every day after that. They were there after practice in the afternoon, and before school started in the morning. He’d find them between classes and during lunch period and sometimes when he hadn’t been away from his locker for more than fifteen minutes. But no one he asked ever saw anyone put anything in his locker.

After a week Kurt’s attitude about the notes went from being slightly frustrated and more than a little annoyed, to an almost desperate curiosity about who could be doing this. Who could pull off never being seen to leave him notes? Notes that, Kurt would admit only to himself, were sometimes the high point of his day. Even if they were to corniest lines ever. Karofsky was still shoving him when he got the chance; Coach Sue was threatening to kill anyone who didn’t make varsity squad (although Kurt knew he was a shoe-in this year).

He supposed, so long as it didn’t turn into an exercise in public humiliation then wasn’t the worst thing in his life. He unfolded the latest one, leaning into his locker so no one could see it.

_Are you an interior decorator? Because when I saw you the entire room became beautiful._

Kurt was standing at his locker, reading the note, when Sam and his band of superheroes walked by. They were chatting with each other, probably making plans to bring puppies to old people or something, Kurt thought, and he turned to watch them as they turned the corner. They ignored him, until Blaine turned his head to look at him before he turned the corner. 

\--

“Lets go Hummel,” Santana called as she and Brittney strolled past him.

“On my way,” he shouted back without looking up. Kurt flattened his latest note onto the top of the stack of all the others. He’d been keeping them in his locker, but there were so many now, he needed to take them home. The fallout of one of them falling out of his locker would not be worth it. And they’d been getting progressively less silly. This latest one nearly had him swooning.

_Hey don’t frown. You never know who could be falling in love with your smile._

At this point he pretty much resigned himself to never knowing.

The hall was clearing out, everyone off to their after school commitment, or the lucky ones off home or with friends. Kurt shouldered his bag and shut his locker, scooting around the corner to catch up with the girls. They were at the far end of the hall.

“Hummel!” Santana shouted. “Don’t forget the sign-up sheet for the carpooling assignments!”

“Damn,” Kurt hissed to himself and skidded to a halt before running back to his locker.

Kurt spun through his combination and pulled open the locker door. Sitting right on top of the neat pile of notes he had stacked was a folded yellow sheet. He hadn't been gone 30 seconds. Someone must have just put it in his locker. 

He was almost afraid to look, but he had to get to practice and there was no way he was going to wait until after to read the note. Kurt sucked air and unfolded the note.

_No wonder the sky is grey today. All the blue is in your eyes._

\--

The next morning Kurt realized that he had no notes for history class and they had a quiz coming up. Blaine was in his history class.

“Hey Blaine!” Kurt called after him after their first class the next morning. Blaine turned around; his eyebrows (and weren’t they kind of adorable?) went up when he saw Kurt.

“Um, Hi Kurt.” The eyebrows scrunched together. (Still adorable.)

“I was just wondering if I could borrow your history notes, if you don’t mind. I keep missing class because of practice and I relay need to study for the next quiz.” Kurt smiled at him, kindly he hoped. Blaine did seem to relax a little.

Blaine set his bag down on the empty desk in front of him. Students for the next class were streaming in and giving them both dirty looks. 

“Here.” Blaine handed over a spiral notebook. “You can take them and make a copy or whatever, I can get it back from you after lunch.”

Kurt took the notebook. “Thanks Blaine. I really appreciate it.” Blaine ran out of the room, and Kurt stood wondering if Blaine knew how tight his pants actually were.

(Later, Kurt would blame Blaine’s eyebrows for what happened next.)

\--

His next period was French, so Kurt pulled out Blaine's notebook and looked through it. The notes in his locker were in pretty nondescript block printing, but he needed to look anyway. Kurt looked through the first few pages, but all of Blaine's notes were in script. Tidy script, but smaller and nothing like the notes from his Secret Admirer. (Is that what he called him now? Huh.) 

His French teacher let him do whatever he wanted, which was one of the perks of being a Cheerio and having a perfect grade in French for three and a half years, so he let his teacher know he needed to make some copies and would be late for class, wandered down to the faculty copy room (yet another perk of being a Cheerio).

Kurt thumbed through Blaine's notes. It was probably worth it to copy them all. Blaine paid attention in class and had nice handwriting; they were looked better than his notes. 

"Why not, right?" He copied a few pages, stopping to flip the spiral notebook, then stopping again to turn the pages. He'd been at it about 5 minutes when something slipped out of the notebook and Kurt gasped. It was a slip of yellow paper, and it looked a lot like the notes he had been finding in his locker. "Shhit!" 

Kurt grabbed at the notebook, flipping through all the pages again, this time going through the blank pages at the back. He'd flipped through nearly all the ages at the back before he saw it. Written on the left hand side, just a few pages from the back, was a list of pickup lines, some of them scratched off. 

Kurt reeled. It really was Blaine. Kurt shook off his shock and read through the list. All of the lines that had been left in his locker had been crossed off, along with some he hadn't seen, (and after reading through them he was grateful for that. Some of them were awful).

"Oh my god. It's Blaine."

\--

Blaine was pacing outside the cafeteria when Kurt got there, the color nearly gone from his face. "Did, you, um, finish with my notes?" His fingers rubbed up and down the strap of his bag. "I promised them to Tina, she has the same class this afternoon." Blaine's Adam's apple bobbed up and down like one of those floaters you put on a fishing line to let you know when the fish were on your hook. He pointedly didn't look at Kurt.

Kurt watched him for just a second. "Yes, thanks. They were very - helpful." He handed the notebook to Blaine. "You have excellent penmanship."

Blaine coughed out what could have been a laugh. "Thank you. I, um, practice."

Kurt hummed, looking Blaine up and down. He could see the other boy squirming. "I'm sure you do. Thanks again." Kurt spun on his heel and walked into the cafeteria, plan already forming.

\--

It took a couple of days for the right opportunity to come along, and meanwhile the notes kept coming. Maybe Blaine assumed that if Kurt hadn't called him out immediately that he hadn't noticed the list? It really was better anyway if Blaine didn’t suspect that Kurt knew.

Kurt was leaving the school after an unusually late Cheerio practice, and he wouldn't have even noticed him if he'd been with Santana and Brittney. But without the girls he was extra observant, just in case anyone (Karofsky) happened to be lurking. But the girls had left together and Kurt was alone.

He had just stepped into the parking lot when he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. The billowing black fabric licking around the corner of the building could really only be one person. Kurt took a few steps backward, before Blaine could see him, and scooted closer to the corner. When he was sure Blaine hadn’t seen him (or at least wasn’t leaving the spot he was in) he stepped quickly around the corner and stood in front of him, close enough that Blaine couldn’t move without knocking Kurt over. 

Blaine’s eyes got wide. “Kurt!” he squeaked.

“Hello Blaine,” Kurt said. Good god he was wearing a mask. An actual mask covering his eyes. Kurt swallowed hard, before he lost his nerve. He placed his right hand on the wall, almost grazing Blaine’s ear, and looked him directly in the eyes.

“If I told you you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me?” Kurt wasn’t even trying not to sound angry.

Blaine swallowed about a hundred times. (Why did he keep noticing that?) “I. Um.” Kurt watched him struggle. Blaine took a breath and started over. “What?” was all he managed, his face attempting a confused look.

“The notes. I know its you.” Blaine’s eyes were darting everywhere, avoiding Kurt’s. Blaine shook his head, his mouth moving wordlessly. “Blaine. I saw the list in your notebook. Don’t even deny it. Pick up lines? Really? Was this some kind of joke? You and your weirdo bunch of costumed geeks have some problem with me?”

Blaine pulled himself together, looking directly at Kurt for the first time. “No. Not a joke. No.” His eyes were almost pleading. “I would never – we would never Kurt. You have to know that.”

Kurt took a step back, although he wasn’t entirely sure Blaine wouldn’t run. “How would I know that? I don’t even know you. I have no idea what you and your weird friends do dressed up like the Nerd Avengers.”

“They didn’t do anything. They don’t know. Everyone else,” Blaine said. “It was just me.” 

“Just you.” Kurt stared at him. “Why?”

Blaine licked his lips. “Karofsky.” Kurt shifted his body backward. “I saw him – push you. When no one was around. I mean, I was around, but no one else. He didn’t see me.” Kurt raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms across his chest protectively and silently asking Blaine to continue. “I told the club, but you, know, we’re not exactly a gang, and we can’t really take on Karofsky, especially if he had his friends around.” Blaine stopped and licked his lips again. (That was distracting.) “So we went to Figgins and reported it, but he told us that unless the victim filed a complaint there was nothing he could do. So we waited, and you never complained.” Blaine shrugged and leaned against the wall. “And I know it kept happening, I saw it happen again. And you looked so unhappy.”

“And you wanted to make me happy?”

He nodded, looking past Kurt. “I did. I, um do.”

“Why? You don’t know me. I’m not nice to you, or anyone else, for that matter. Why would you care if I was happy?”

Blaine didn’t answer; he just shook his head and stared at Kurt’s…mouth. Blaine Anderson was staring at his mouth. Looking like he wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss him. Kurt took a sharp breath. 

“Blaine…?” Blaine blinked, finally, his eyes darting away form Kurt’s mouth and over his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry Kurt. I’ll stop. It doesn’t matter now. I just –“ Blaine’s eyes were looking everywhere but at Kurt. “I’ll go. I’ll never talk to you again, I promise.”

Kurt couldn’t take how desperate he looked, and put his hand on Blaine’s cheek to stop his squirming. Blaine’s eyes were huge; Kurt could have fallen into them.

Blaine kissing him was all of a sudden not the worst idea anyone had ever had. In fact, it didn’t make a lot of sense that it had never crossed his mind before.  
“Huh,” Kurt said, almost to himself, as he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Blaine’s. It took Blaine’s brain only a few seconds to catch up to his mouth, and Kurt felt hands grip his shoulder, pulling him closer. Blaine whined when Kurt pulled away. 

“What is this made out of?” Kurt was running his hands over the bulky chest protector on Blaine’s costume. 

“It’s um,” Blaine said, looking down at Kurt’s hands, as if he couldn’t remember what he was wearing. “It’s some old football pads.” He looked back up at Kurt, but Kurt was busy.

“Does it come off?”

“Uh huh,” he practically squeaked again. “It’s here, um, there’s a shoulder hook.” Blaine reached for it but Kurt got there first, unhooking it with one hand and pushing the pads and Blaine’s cape to the ground.

“Better.” Kurt took a step closer, pressing his chest against Blaine’s as he kissed him again. “Do you have any more?” Kurt kissed the corner of Blaine’s mouth.

“More?” Blaine’s head tilted against the brick wall of the school as Kurt brushed his mouth down Blaine’s neck. He reached blindly for Kurt’s waist, pulling him closer everywhere.

“Yes. More. You know,” Kurt breathed in his ear.

“Oh god Kurt,” Blaine gasped. “I can’t think if you do that.”

“Should I stop?” Kurt pulled his face back to see Blaine’s.

Blaine shook his head. “No. Please.” He leaned forward and kissed Kurt on the mouth. “OK, um, you look cold. Want to use me as a blanket?”

Kurt giggled.

“I was feeling a little off today, but you definitely turned me on.” 

Kurt pressed up against him. “I can tell.”

“Your body is 65% water and I’m thirsty.” This time Blaine giggled. 

“Oh my god.” Kurt kissed him again. “Do these actually work on people?”

Blaine grinned at him, much less nervous that Kurt had ever seen him. “If you had asked me yesterday, I’d have said no.” He leaned in, brushing his nose against Kurt’s. “But here we are.”

“Blaine,” Kurt whispered. “Do you have a Band-Aid? Because I just scraped my knee falling for you.”


End file.
